


World Keeps Turning and Turning

by IprotectKennyP (dauntperplexity)



Series: Would Rather Wait for You [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauntperplexity/pseuds/IprotectKennyP
Summary: Kent flipped on the light and his eyes were immediately drawn to it.Right on his chest was a mark.He reached up with a shaky hand to touch it, expecting a bit of tattoo tenderness around the mark. But there wasn't any sort of pain. He scratched across it, but nothing peeled off.It wasn't a tattoo. Or even a temporary one.So, what else could it have been?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, implied Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Series: Would Rather Wait for You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1277831
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	World Keeps Turning and Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Over a year ago I wrote a Soulmate AU fic.
> 
> Here is the sequel.
> 
> This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a long time.
> 
> I hope you all like it!

“We’re lucky,” Anthony said.

“What do you mean?” James asked, reaching down and lacing his fingers with Anthony’s. He tugged on Anthony’s hand, telling his soulmate that he wanted him close. Closer.

Anthony rolled his eyes and curled up against James’ side. He reached over with his and James’ hand and traced his finger along James’ soulmark, right over his heart. “This,” he said softly. “What are the chances that we are lucky enough to find each other.”

“We’re soulmates. Of course, we were going to find each other.”

“It wasn’t a guarantee, James,” Anthony said with a sigh. “There was always a chance that I’d find my… soul-adjacent-mate before I found you.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“That’s how most soulmates work. We find someone with the same mark, but not necessarily in the same place. My parents. My grandparents. Their marks didn’t line up.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not us.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. Sometimes his soulmate could be so stubborn. Especially when it came to love. “We were lucky.”

“No,” James replied. “There’s no luck involved.” He rolled the two of them over so that Anthony was under him as he straddled his thighs. He traced over Anthony’s mark, right over his heart with his free hand. He wasn’t going to let his mate go. Not until he understood. “Not when the mark is over your heart. It has to mean something. And it does. That’s… that’s from the gods.”

Anthony rolled his eyes again. “I know. I heard the myths. We have the same marks as Achilles and Patroclus, so that makes us special.”

“No,” James said, pressing his palm against Anthony’s mark. “It’s not myth. Having your mark over your heart. It’s different. The universe wouldn’t be so unkind that it’d put a mark over our hearts and keep us away from each other. If I didn’t find you in this lifetime, how would I be able to find you in the next? We were always going to find each other.” He looked into Anthony’s blue eyes. “You believe me, right?”

Anthony brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed their fingers. “Of course I do,” he said softly.

“Everyone else can find their adjacent mate,” James said. “But when the mark is on your heart, you always find your soulmate. Your true soulmate. It may take some time, but you find them.”

“Always?”

“I’ve found you every time, haven’t I?”

Anthony smiled and pulled James down for a kiss. “I’m sure that I found you at least a handful of times,” he countered.

“Debatable,” James said, climbing off of Anthony’s lap and curling against his side. 

_/ _/ _/ _/ _X_ \\_ \\_ \ _ \\_

The Las Vegas Aces winning their first Stanley Cup in 2010 was the first time the city had ever won a professional sports championship. If they wanted to be more specific, it was the first championship for the state of Nevada. To mark the occasion, the Entertainment Capital of the world threw the second biggest party Kent Parson had ever been to. 

The first was obviously the night they won the Cup a week and a half before. 

Winning the Cup in seven at home meant that the entire Southern Nevada was a party.

For one day, he was let into bars and clubs that he should not have been able to step into for two more birthdays. Even if he was underage, no bouncer in town was going to deny the Conn Smythe Trophy winner entry anywhere. 

The city had been partying since then.

This meant Kent had been going from place to place for interviews and autograph signings. He still hadn’t had a full night’s rest since the start of the playoffs. 

Finally, the city figured out the date to let the Aces have their parade and official party to celebrate. They chose ten days after winning the Cup. While other teams would’ve done it sooner, Las Vegas had to take some time to finalize everything. 

The city of Las Vegas had never won a championship before.

They had to make their first one ever memorable. 

That being said, Kent could not remember what happened between the hours of 11:00 pm and 9:54 am.

The fact that he was able to look at his phone and see the time was a good sign. This party was not as crazy as the night they won the Stanley Cup. 

Kent was going to be partied out for a few months. 

He opened up his messages and sent one to their assistant General Manager Mazzie. 

**To Mazzie:  
** (9:56am): Thank you for making sure I got home okay. You’re the greatest GM ever.

**From Mazzie:  
** (9:56am): No problem, Parser. Least I cud do. Like I’d let anything happen 2 our MVP. There may b sum teammates downstairs. Txt me if they are there. Plz and thnx.

Kent contemplated grabbing a shirt for an entire three seconds before heading downstairs. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to put on a shirt, especially if he was going to have to make it all the way downstairs. 

He found Jeff “Swoops” Troy passed out on his couch. He texted Mazzie after he inspected the rest of his house and saw no one else there. 

**To Mazzie:  
** (10:06AM): Just Swoops is here. He’s passed out still.

**From Mazzie:  
** (10:06AM): Thnx, Kent! Rest up! U deserve it after the season u had!  
(10:07AM): Don’t b afraid 2 kick Swoops’ ass out. He has his own place he can crash.

**To Mazzie:  
** (10:08AM) I’ll let you know. 

Kent headed into the kitchen to make some coffee. He needed something to wake him up and get rid of the hangover. He didn’t even want to begin to think about what the guys were planning for his 21st birthday. 

Jeff stumbled in before Kent even poured himself his first cup. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Kent said, filling a mug and handing it to his teammate.

“You’re the blonde, Parser, not me.”

Kent rolled his eyes. “I take it back. That was very not a ray of sunshine moment,” he replied. He moved around the kitchen to get another mug for himself. He filled his mug and stood on the other side of the island in his kitchen to look at Jeff. “You doing okay there, bud?” he asked as he poured a couple teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. “You getting so old that you can’t handle a little party?”

Jeff lifted his hand and flipped Kent off. “Fuck you, Parser,” he said with a groan before taking a sip of his coffee. “That was not a little party and you know it.”

Kent actually didn’t know. He remembered the club blasting Lady Gaga and Beyonce, and then nothing. But he wasn’t going to tell that to Jeff. “You couldn't make it back home?”

“Jonny wanted me to make sure you were good,” Jeff said. 

“I’m good,” Kent said. He could use a few more hours, or days, of sleep, but he was good.

He was a Stanley Cup Champion. How could he not be good?

“Good,” Jeff said. He sipped his coffee again before frowning and looking over his own body. “Did we get tattoos again last night?” he asked. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kent asked. He was sure they didn’t stop by a tattoo parlor again. No place on his body was aching the same way it did after he got a tattoo on the night they won the Cup.

2010 Stanley Cup Champions

On his ribs.

He was still moisturizing it every day while it finished healing up.

Once he finished coming up with the idea of the tattoo of the actual Cup on his body, he'd get it. But that was at least a few weeks away.

Jeff just pointed at Kent’s chest. "You got a tattoo of my soulmark on your chest," he said. "Placement is off, though. And, it does look like it already healed, which is... odd. When the hell did you get that? Did you get that when we won?"

"What?" Kent asked.

He looked down his chest and could kind of see something right over his heart. He ran toward his downstairs bathroom, leaving Jeff alone in his kitchen.

He flipped on the light and his eyes were immediately drawn to it.

Right on his chest was a mark.

And it looked just like Jeff’s.

He reached up with a shaky hand to touch it, expecting a bit of tattoo tenderness around the mark. But there wasn't any sort of pain. He scratched across it, but nothing peeled off.

It wasn't a tattoo. Or even a temporary one.

So, what else could it have been? 

He stepped out of the bathroom and headed into the laundry room to grab a tank to throw on. He didn’t want to look at it. And he didn’t want anyone else looking at it. Not right now. Not when he didn’t have the brain capacity to process it.

Jeff looked at Kent when he sat down next to him. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," Kent said. "I'm..." He didn’t know where to begin to answer that question the way he really wanted to. "I'm dandy."

"Dandy?"

Kent rolled his eyes. "I make you coffee and you give me crap for my word choice?"

"You made yourself coffee," Jeff said. He took a sip from the mug before dumping some sugar in. "So we got so drunk that you got another tattoo. And neither of us can remember?"

"I didn't remember enough after winning the Cup. Thank fuck you recorded me getting the tattoo."

"You're welcome for holding your hand through it."

Kent flipped him off. "Maybe it's a good thing I don't remember it." He brought his hand up to touch his chest where the mark was. "You have any videos on your phone from last night?"

Jeff looked over his shoulder at the couch that he'd been sleeping on the night before. "Phone's too far," he said.

"How are you possibly this lazy?" Kent asked. 

“Season’s over, Parser. I get to be lazy now. It’s in my contract.”

Kent rolled his eyes and went to the living room to retrieve the phone. He wanted to solve the mystery of the mysterious mark as soon as possible.

"Here," he said, handing the phone to Jeff. He was going to look at his phone at the same time. Maybe one of them could figure out what happened. Or what was going on. 

Everything in him told him it wasn't a tattoo. 

But, if it wasn't a tattoo then what else could it be?

"I got nothing on my phone," Jeff said, his head still dropped as he looked through his phone. "When the hell did we go to Koreburgers. What the hell did I order?"

"Let me see," Kent said, leaning over to look and saw the blurry picture on Troy’s screen. "It looks like something you'd eat. Because you like food. Even if you take shitty pictures of it." 

"Who doesn't like food?"

"You know what I mean," Kent said, rolling his eyes. He went back to looking at his phone, scrolling past a lot of blurry pictures. He was really hoping that this would be the last big party for the next few months. He knew that wasn’t going to be the case with his birthday coming up in a few weeks. 

"You find anything?" Jeff asked.

"I found that I'm terrible at taking pictures," Kent said with a frown. He rubbed his eyes as he continued to scroll. It didn't look like they made a stop at another tattoo place after the parade and before waking up in his own house. "But apparently I still like taking them," he said. There were over a hundred new pictures on his phone. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"Well, you're young, you're drunk. You probably weren't."

"Yeah," Kent said, still scrolling through some pictures. He couldn’t really argue with Jeff’s assessment.

"Hey," Jeff said, reaching over and tapped Kent’s arm with the back of his hand. "The guys wanna know if they can come over tonight. Just for a chill night. Team recovery."

"That's a thing?" Kent said.

"It's a thing now," he said. "I think we all need it."

"That's for sure."

Kent furrowed his brow as he saw a picture of himself on his phone. Apparently, he wasn't the only one that was taking pictures with his phone last night. It was a picture of him wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. It had a good view of his chest. He has zoomed in as much as he could and saw that the mark was on his chest.

A few pictures back, he was still in the same position. The picture wasn't that different. He wasn't wearing his hat. He was looking off to the side, talking to someone. His shirt wasn't covering his face, even though he still had it lifted up.

There was no mark on his chest.

Now, he was even more confused than before.

What could've happened that there was a mark on his chest one second, but not the next? It couldn't have been more than five minutes between the two pictures. Everything in the background was the same. He didn't look like he had stood up from his seat. 

What was the difference?

He clicked on the photo info to see what time the photo without the mark took place.

11:57 PM.

He then did the same thing to the second photo where the mark was obvious.

12:01 AM.

Four minutes.

But it was a new day.

What the hell?

He looked up from his phone when he felt something tossed at his head. He looked down and saw a crumpled up paper towel. "What is wrong with you?" he asked after clearing his throat and making sure he was able to speak.

"You were ignoring me. The guys wanna know what time they can head over."

"You know," Kent said. "It’s funny that none of the guys have actually texted me yet," he said, holding up his phone waving it. "You guys just text about me and invite yourself to my place without actually asking me, huh?"

"Consider it rookie hazing."

"The season is over, Troy," Kent said. "I'm technically not a rookie anymore."

"You're still a rookie until the day of the draft and we pick someone up."

Kent rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Just tell them to come over at like 5. Bring beer and food. And this is the last time you guys invite yourselves to my place without putting me in the group text. I mean, come on. More than half you guys have houses just as big as mine."

"But most of them have wives. And kids. You're single and ready to mingle."

"I absolutely am not," Kent said. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna go back to sleep, you can hang. Don't drink all of my orange juice."

"Wait. No breakfast?"

"You’re always so damn judgy about my food. You can cook for yourself. Don't set anything on fire." 

Kent grabbed his phone and made his way upstairs and up to his room. He took his tank off and looked at himself in the mirror again. The mark was still there. He knew that it wasn't going to go away.

But what was it?

He ran his finger over the skin and frowned. The skin wasn’t raised like his tattoo. It just seemed like a part of his skin.

He sucked in a breath and held it as he scratched along it, expecting a lot of pain.

It just felt like a scratch.

And now Kent had no idea what to do about any of this new information.

If he were less tired and less hungover, he would’ve pulled his laptop out and started a deep dive into research.

But he was tired. Exhausted, really. And way more hungover than any nineteen year old had any right to be. His body was telling him to get into bed and to worry about this after a few more hours of sleep.

His nutritionist always told him to listen to his body. He was going to do just that.

He tossed his tank into the corner where the rest of his dirty laundry was piling up then climbed into bed. He placed his hand on his chest, his finger tracing over the mark.

For the first time in a long time, there was a warmth in his chest that felt so familiar, but so different. It wasn’t that noticeable, but it was there. Something was comforting about it. 

He had missed it. 

He fell asleep like that less than ten minutes later.

It wasn’t until a week later, on the night of the NHL draft, that Kent realized that the day the mark appeared was the anniversary of Jack’s overdose.

_/ _/ _/ _/ _X_ \\_ \\_ \ _ \\_

“I still think we are lucky,” Anthony said. 

“How?”

“We found each other,” Anthony said, leaning over to kiss James on his forehead. “We get to know what it’s like to be with our true soulmate.”

James smiled and curled up against Anthony. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He sighed as Anthony ran his hand up and down his spine, making him relax with every move of his hand.

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we didn’t? Like if we kept missing each other. Or we settled for our adjacent mate first?”

“Then the gods would move Heaven, Hell, and Earth to make sure we did. I… I would’ve moved Heaven, Hell, and Earth.”

“All that for love?”

James turned Anthony’s head so he could kiss his soulmate on his lips. He pulled back and looked into his eyes. “All that for love.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at zimmboniandbitty.


End file.
